"Whoever plays with fire must bear the consequences that will come to them."
The detective looked at the window with furious, crimson-tinged eyes. The mysterious figure standing nearby was—don't forget your name.
Neuvillette stared at don't forget your name with a gaze full of rage, as if he wanted to devour him.
"What are you doing here? Did you come to give lectures or what? If you have nothing important to say, please leave."
Don't forget your name leaned against the room's wall, carrying a provoking smile on his lips.
"Ah, clown, why are you so angry? I was just taking a walk nearby and thought I'd say hello to my favorite friend."
Neuvillette stood up in anger, moving toward don't forget your name before swinging a punch at his face. But don't forget your name dodged it, grabbed Neuvillette by the neck, and then slammed him to the ground—his lips still carrying that beautiful smile.
"It seems you're starting to lose your mind, clown. Try to focus and don't let this world swallow you, just as the shark devours the rest of the fish. The strong survive, and the coward is buried in the ruins of oblivion."
Don't forget your name extended a hand to help Neuvillette up, but the detective rose without taking it.
He continued speaking.
"If madness consumes you in this world, it will consume you in all others."
Just as Neuvillette was about to sit on the bed, he heard the word worlds. He turned to don't forget your name, stepping closer.
"What do you mean by 'other worlds'? And don't tell me I'll discover it on my own."
Don't forget your name smiled—an eerie, unsettling smile.
"Yes, you will discover it yourself. If you hear the information now, there is no guarantee you won't go mad. Cosmic horror, mysteries, the Crimson Ones, the Sacred, the Revered—they are manifestations of something called 'The Vision of the Sovereign.' They exist on a level beyond human comprehension. Flesh and bone cannot endure such things. And besides, I am merely a hidden employee of yours."
Neuvillette's eyebrows furrowed at the sheer horror of the information.
"What is this? What do you mean? My God, this is too much. And didn't you say you wouldn't interfere with my investigation?"
Don't forget your name chuckled, placing a hand on the detective's shoulder.
"See, detective? Even your brilliant mind cannot handle these terrifying truths. Everything in its time. Besides, did I say anything about your case?"
He sat on a broken chair, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, gazing at the detective.
"It seems this world is dragging you into the abyss—the abyss of madness, detective."
Neuvillette sighed, pulled up a chair, and sat near don't forget your name, a crimson smirk on his lips.
"Listen to me carefully, don't forget your name. I will not let this world—or even the other worlds you speak of—control me like a puppet. Instead, I will be the one to pull the strings."
Don't forget your name's eyes widened for a moment, but he quickly concealed it with a mysterious smile.
"You remind me of the Puppeteer. Perhaps you are him, or he is you, or you are both one and the same. Either way, I hope to see you put those words into action."
He stood, tipped his hat slightly, and said to Neuvillette:
"Continue working on your case, clown. I'll be delighted if you solve it with your sanity intact."
Then, he vanished, leaving the detective to ponder the depths of his cryptic words.
Neuvillette stood by the window, looking at the dark clouds rolling in, carrying heavy rain. He took out a cigarette and lit it.
"Unclear, mysterious words without a single explanation. But who is this so-called Puppeteer? What's the story behind the worlds? And that damn mysterious bastard… Damn them. Damn them all. I should head to the next location."
Leaving the hotel, the detective called upon Cloud of Mystery, and in an instant, the horse appeared before him. He patted its mane and muttered:
"Seems even Cloud of Mystery is part of these mysteries, haha… What am I even saying?"
Mounting his horse, Neuvillette rode toward his next destination—South Kenstjohn.
Within minutes, he arrived at the designated location. Looking around, he spotted the house he was searching for. Its façade was dark and desolate. The front yard was littered with tattered clothes, broken toys, leftover food scraps… and feces—either from a dog or a human.
He moved to the back of the house and found the same unsettling scene. As Neuvillette inspected the area, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that someone was watching him.
As he scanned his surroundings, a figure suddenly appeared before him—a short man, a dwarf, with a completely disfigured face, smeared with traces of blood.
The dwarf had no eyes, no mouth, yet still, he spoke:
"Welcome, stranger. What brings you to the Slum of Misery, the place where these poor souls were slaughtered?"
Neuvillette's eyes widened in shock. He took a slight bow before replying, his voice unusually sincere for the first time in this world.
"I am here to investigate the case… to find the one who murdered these innocent people."
"Ki, ki, ki, ki… It seems you are a good man, young sir. But can you really find the killer and bring justice?"
Neuvillette spoke to himself.
"There's something strange… Who is this dwarf? He has an eerie, mysterious presence."
With a genuine smile, the detective answered the dwarf's question.
"Yes, I can bring justice, and I will find the murderer who tortured these poor souls."
The dwarf lowered his head, letting out a soft sob. Neuvillette was puzzled by the reaction.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asked, bewildered.
The dwarf looked up at Neuvillette and, in a sorrowful voice, said:
"Young sir, why don't you return to where you came from? Your beautiful youth should not be wasted like this."
Neuvillette placed his hat on the ground, gazing at the dwarf with sadness.
"Do not fear, my friend. I have faced worse things than this. Also, what is your name, beautiful one?"
The dwarf stared at Neuvillette in shock, his eyes shifting toward the house.
"My name… my name is Luzy Clancy."
Neuvillette placed his hat back on his head, then stood up, resting his hand on Luzy's head with a warm smile. The dwarf was surprised by the gesture.
Pointing toward the house, Neuvillette said:
"Luzy, how about you watch my back while I investigate inside for some clues?"
Luzy wanted to speak, but fear held him back. The detective noticed this and spoke a few words of wisdom.
"Fear of the unknown is a chronic disease, and you will never be free from it unless you fight it."
Luzy listened to those cryptic words—words that carried the essence of survival in the depths of death.
Neuvillette entered the house with Luzy, scanning every room with his ability. Only one room remained. He stepped inside and extended his hand forward. That was when the visions began to appear.
There were two children asleep in the room, while their father sat beside them, reading them a story. The father was Luzy—the dwarf. Moments later, the children's mother entered the room, but she was headless.
The father jumped up in terror, but the killer swiftly threw a knife at Luzy's throat. When the children tried to escape from the bed, the murderer hurled multiple knives at them.
Minutes later, the killer brought tools for mutilation, disfiguring Luzy's face. He replaced the woman's head with her feet, then swapped the children's heads with each other.
Finally, he retrieved a chessboard—one crafted from real human skin—and began moving them like chess pieces.
The vision ended. Neuvillette stood frozen, speaking only to his own dead soul.
"Strangely, I no longer feel fear… I don't cry… I don't even know what to say anymore. What kind of being is this murderer? Is he human or a monster? Even monsters have their own pride—they wouldn't slaughter children."
Luzy entered the room, staring at the detective's state. In a soft voice, he asked:
"Young sir, who are you again?"
Neuvillette responded with a crimson clown's smile—the smile of someone lost, uncertain of his own existence.
"I am called The Clown. I will carve that murderer into pieces, just as he did to the children."
Luzy looked at him with astonishment and disbelief.
"You don't seem like an ordinary human… Are you a ruler or something?"
Playing the tune of slaughter, striking even the hardest of hearts, Neuvillette answered with words that emerged from the depths of tormented death.
"I am a lost man, guiding others toward the light in the midst of darkness."
Luzy didn't understand what the detective meant.
"Your words are strange… I don't get it, young sir."
Neuvillette smiled cryptically, realizing that even a smile could be an ominous presence—a crimson enigma.
"Neither do I… What is all this trash and debris scattered around?"
Luzy's voice carried pain as he replied, wounded at heart.
"Sometimes, children or strangers wander in to see what happened in this house, especially in my children's room. When they see me there, they start screaming… or throwing garbage at me."
He continued with a sorrowful expression.
"I used to visit them all the time… I would cry… And sometimes, I would continue reading the story I never got to finish that night."
Neuvillette clenched his fist tightly, so hard that his palm bled. He knelt, placing his hand on Luzy's shoulder.
"I promise you, Luzy—I will give you peaceful sleep."
Calling upon Cloud of Mystery, his horse appeared from nowhere. Neuvillette mounted it, bid farewell, and rode off.
Luzy watched him leave with sadness in his eyes, as if he knew how this would all end.
"Young sir… I hope you will be alright in the steps ahead."
—
Neuvillette arrived at his building, entered his office, and collapsed onto the couch. His fingers pressed against his forehead, while his right hand held a cigarette.
Sitting nearby was Don't Forget Your Name.
"Clown, do you like music?"
Neuvillette looked at him through the gaps between his fingers—a look of deep sorrow and rage.
Don't Forget Your Name smirked.
"I'll take that look as an answer."
He snapped his fingers—
And suddenly, they were gone.
Both Neuvillette and Don't Forget Your Name appeared in London. But not the ordinary London—this was London in the Second World. London in the Era of Chaos.
The first thing the clown saw was the crimson moon. The air was heavy, oppressive, and haunting. The Victorian buildings had an unsettling, eerie design that sent shivers down the spine. The sky was a mix of black and blood-red.
Neuvillette's crimson eyes could hardly comprehend what they were seeing.
Don't Forget Your Name placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke.
"Let me show you London in the Era of Chaos."